


make me

by nightwideopen



Series: Winterhawk Bingo [6]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Bickering, Bingo, Enemies to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mission Fic, Tales of Suspense adjacent, WinterHawk Bingo 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28276056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwideopen/pseuds/nightwideopen
Summary: “You fucker– Shut up!”Clint shrugs, hands in the pockets of his tac pants like he hasn’t got a care in the world.“Make me,” he says.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Winterhawk Bingo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858948
Comments: 10
Kudos: 18
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo





	make me

**Author's Note:**

> written for Winterhawk Bingo
> 
> square filled: Tales of Suspense

Bucky doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t slept in 72 hours or because Clint Barton is just that annoying; every drag of the archer’s feet on the concrete is setting his teeth on edge. He’s pretty sure that if he bites down any harder trying to hold his tongue, his teeth are going to crack. He doesn’t think he’s ever been around the guy for longer than the length of a mission briefing, and it sure as hell was Bucky’s mistake to agree to a mission of _just the two of them_. Because now he’s got two black eyes and broken ribs and he’s ambling along to the sound of Barton’s boots – which are scraping against asphalt with all the air of a bad song that Bucky can’t get out of his head.

It’s been ten miles at least, of them just walking along the side of the road in silence. Steve had said that extraction would be one mile south of the safe house, which was relatively close to the city center. They’d finished up their mission hours ago– well, they’d completely fucked up their mission hours ago. One bit of bad intel had led to another and left them on opposite rooftops for close to twelve hours, scoping out the wrong exit. Their bags had gotten switched along the way and Bucky had ended up with Clint’s bow, Clint with Bucky’s favorite rifle.

“Don’t get your greasy fingerprints all over the trigger,” Bucky had growled over the comms. He knew there was a pair of gloves in his bag. He knew because he had put them there the night before. “Do you fucking copy that, Barton?”

Clint had just snickered.

“Don’t snap yourself in the face with the bowstring.” 

And then he switched off his comms.

It was really fucking stupid. And really fucking dangerous. Bucky wanted to kick in Barton’s teeth as he fumbled with getting the nock of the arrow to actually click.

And honestly? Maybe he should have.

“Do you know how to walk?” Bucky finally snaps. Everything’s gone fucking upside down and the last thing he needs is these noises. Lucky for him, Barton doesn’t answer and just keeps dragging his feet. “Oh for _fuck’s_ sake–”

Bucky cut himself off and took a deep breath. They’ve argued enough over the past three days – and over the past three years, to be honest – and Bucky is tired. He’s exhausted. And fighting with Clint Barton is the last thing he wants to use the dregs of his energy on. His phone is dead, they’re out of water, they’re in the middle of nowhere and–

And then the humming starts.

It’s some fucking off-beat song with no tempo that any hearing person wouldn’t be able to decipher if their life depended on it and Barton’s squeaky rendition of whatever-the-fuck finally shatters the last bit of Bucky’s resolve.

He rounds on Clint, angrier than he can remember feeling in a long while, and grabs him by the collar of his torn shirt. Bucky tackles him to the ground and raises his metal fist, buzzing with adrenaline and breathing hard–

And Clint looks so caught in the headlights of the sudden change that Bucky knows he needs to calm the fuck down, like, yesterday. He can feel Clint’s heart pounding under his flesh hand, and he deflates.

It’s not Clint’s fault. None of it is. Bucky knew about every annoying habit the archer had before agreeing to this mission. Bucky knows how restless he gets, knows that sometimes he hums to himself and nods off at inappropriate times. On no less than three occasions, Clint has nearly knocked over Bucky’s drink during dinner because he couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. He’s restless and he’s a mess, but his annoying habits don’t have any bearing on his capability as a hero or a tactician. Sometimes shit just goes wrong.

“Can you please,” Bucky says finally, “Just shut the fuck up?”

Clint squints at him, still looking a little pale.

“My hearing aids died like eight miles back, man, you’re gonna have to use those fancy hands of yours.”

Bucky, still straddling Clint, feels immediately stupid. He pinches the bridge of his nose for a long moment, then digs into one of the pouches on his belt for his comms. He knew it would be a good idea to have Tony make all of their comms – not just Clint’s – double as in-ear hearing aids. No one believed him. But Bucky is always prepared for the worst these days. And one of those things is being unable to communicate with Clint. His ASL is mediocre at best.

“Here,” he says, even though Clint can’t hear him. He makes sure the devices are in and on before speaking again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get angry. You’re just really fucking annoying, you know that?”

Clint grins at him through three days of exhaustion and hunger and sweat and blood and frustration.

“Yeah, I know.” He laughs. “You gonna get off me any time soon?”

Bucky gets to his feet and offers Clint a hand. Once they’ve both righted themselves as much as they can, Bucky turns and starts walking again. Everything’s fine. They’re nearly there. Just two more miles–

Clint starts fucking humming again.

This time when Bucky whips around it’s to see Clint’s stupid, smug, freckled face smirking back at him.

“You fucker– _Shut up!”_

Clint shrugs, hands in the pockets of his tac pants like he hasn’t got a care in the world.

“Make me,” he says.

Bucky does.

His brain short circuits in between him balling up his fists and stomping the three paces to get to Clint before kissing him hard. It takes a moment for him to cotton onto the fact that he’s kissing the loud-mouthed idiot that he’s spent the better part of five years actively hating, and takes another to realize that said idiot is kissing him back. It’s nice. It’s _stupidly_ good, and maybe Bucky could put all of the energy that it takes to be annoyed by Barton to do this instead–

A _whoosh_ and a _clang_ startle them both, and Bucky finds himself hissing at the sensation of Clint biting down on his lower lip as hard as humanly possible. He instantly tastes blood, dabbing at his lip and scowling at the suit of armor that’s just landed beside them. The faceplate opens to reveal a smug looking Tony Stark, and Bucky thinks he’s just about had enough of this mission.

“About time, don’t you think?”

“About time you fucking found us, more like,” Bucky growls. His lips are still tingling and he carefully doesn’t look at Clint. “Where the hell did Steve park?”

Tony keeps looking smug, then walks away. The clang of his suit on the concrete is enough to make Bucky not want to follow him. He clenches his fist and his arm whirs menacingly.

But then Clint is there, throwing an arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

“You gonna kiss him quiet too?” Clint teases.

Bucky groans. “God, shut up.”

Clint throws his head back laughing.

_“Make me.”_


End file.
